Broken Bliss
by Alchemical Angel
Summary: A startling chain of events in which a fire is smothered, the ashes scattered, and then comes back to life perhaps more brightly than it had first burned.Royai. I'm really bad at summaries. NOW COMPLETE
1. Recognition and Resignation

((Author's Note: Still working out the kinks in the formatting. Lo siento. Anyway, I'd like to thank all of the wonderful people who left reviews on my first fic, "A Simple Ring". This story is more than a oneshot, but exactly how many chapters there will be I haven't decided yet. Once again, lo siento. / I'll try to put up new chapters regularly. I hope you enjoy this.))

It had all gone up in flames.

He had never realized, during all his shameless flitting about with different women, what love had actually felt like. He had had an epiphany, some time ago, that his only love was the Lieutenant. When he thought about it, he realized that his heart had always been pledged to Hawkeye, but that pledge was only voiced in a whisper, and had been drowned in Ishbal by the blood of the battlefront. Later, it had been muffled by the gunshots about them, heralds of their profession.

But he had eventually heard that pledge, and had voiced it to her himself.

He recalled her reaction as if it had occurred only minutes before. She had stood completely still for a moment. Those eyes tried to read his own. He couldn't blame her for being skeptical. Perhaps she had counted the times he had feigned those three words towards the feminine population of Central. But she could see only sincerity. And then those eyes had changed, only slightly. It was common knowledge that the true Riza Hawkeye kept herself walled in by professionalism and duty. It was a common saying that the eyes were windows to the heart and to the soul.

Joy filled his own heart, and might have even spilled into his soul. There was love there, in those eyes, those eyes the hue of dusky roses. He knew before she even echoed the words he had said, before he truly heard the pledge from her own heart. From then till the present, six weeks later, his life had been nothing but absolute bliss.

At the workplace, she had remained the same, strict slave driver. He hadn't expected her to change, though. It was what made the fact that she was late to work that day so surprising.

At first, he had been a little worried. He called her apartment, but received no answer. From this, he gathered that she must be trapped in traffic, and still on her commute. He figured that this tardiness would undoubtedly put her in a bad mood, and decided he would do what he could to fix it.

The night before, the Lieutenant had set a pile of paperwork on the corner of his desk. This had been a habit. He knew they were in order from greatest to least significance. She knew that his slacking off was inevitable, whether at gunpoint or not, so she had fallen into the practice of addressing what was most important before her Colonel ran out of what little enthusiasm he was equipped with every morning.

The Colonel sat down at his desk, formulating a plan to brighten her day. He had decided to start his paperwork early, shockingly of his own free will, so that after work he might have time to take her to one of the renowned restaurants of Central. _Nothing too glitzy, of course_, he thought as he signed the first few forms. They'd still have to go out under the pretense of being nothing more than colleagues, due to the fraternization laws. Riza wouldn't like anything too glitzy anyway. He smiled inwardly, thinking perhaps for the thousandth time in that one morning, _God, I love that woman._

That's what made it so hard to swallow, so hard to breathe, when he read the heading of the sixteenth form from the top. The cold, harsh, black lettering across the top of the form that made his heart stop beating. A resignation form.

Just like that, his happiness was burned to ash, and his joy was nothing but a shadowy column of smoke.

He flew from the office. Whatever happened between the office and the front stoop of Hawkeye's apartment building were a blur. All he knew, all he could remember, was that there was no answer when he knocked on her door. He had a spare key, she had given it to him a fortnight before. He swore, his hands shaking as he opened the door. He had thought that something had happened to her, that she was dying or perhaps dead beyond the door. What he found was, in a way, worse.

Her apartment was completely empty.


	2. Faded

_Author's Note: Greetings! I'm sorry this took so long to write. I'm buried in school work. I tried hard to keep Riza as in character as possible._

_Thanks to my reviewers for their awesome reviews on both "A Simple Ring" and part one of this fic. I love you!_

_I also apologize, again, for the kinks that are bound to be in this file. I'm by no means technologically deft, but I'm not technologically daft either. I'm having issues editing documents…_

It was too big for a pistol, but not large enough to be conspicuous.

With one hand, Riza held the bag against her, allowing the small puppy inside some solace. The baggage sat on the bench next to her. Though the pitching and rocking of the train might have startled the young dog, the warmth of Hawkeye's thigh could be felt through the lining, and Black Hayate remained silent. Hawkeye looked at the bag. It had ceased its spontaneous fit of wriggling, the disguised creature having found comfort. She closed her eyes and rested her pale cheek against the cold glass of the window. Her heart ached, but her mind tried to rationalize the pain away. The hand that wasn't holding her bag slid up from her lap and rested on her stomach. She wondered about the pain that would bring. _Not nearly enough_, she thought, _not as much as it's hurting him._

Riza Hawkeye was always the sensible one of the crew. Why did she feel so lost now? She had been thrown into a situation where every option was sensible, if you approached them with a cold logic, but no option was even the slightest bit reasonable.

Riza Hawkeye was an idiot. She had told the truth to her superior. She told him she loved him. She had allowed herself to love him. She had thought herself careful- always keeping the fraternization law always in her head. Obviously, she had not been careful enough.

Riza Hawkeye was pregnant.

She hadn't told him. She couldn't. How could she? She had sworn to protect him and his dream. But she had to choose between his dream and his heart. Loving him, marrying him, those had been _her _dreams. And, well, Maes had already been a martyr for his dream. Hawkeye couldn't take both away from Mustang to fulfill her own dreams. That would be breaking her promise. She couldn't even tell him. She knew what he would do. Roy would sacrifice his goal if he learned. If the word got out, even if she resigned, his reputation would be hurt. His career would be shattered, and he would never climb to the top. There was only one alternative: she would have to leave.

She had taken great pains to make sure she could not be traced. Gradually, she sold off her possessions, each to numerous shops in varied locations about Central. Hawkeye had always paid her rent by month, and it was only a few days before the first of February that she had left. That matter was easily resolved. Next came her name and legal documents. She changed her name to Liza, and adopted her mother's maiden name, Grumman. It was common enough and wouldn't be too conspicuous. She could have gone to an alchemist and had her hair color changed, but she didn't know when she was officially going to leave, and she didn't want to do anything that would alert her colleagues. Or him.

Hayate she had been too soft hearted to leave behind. She stroked the side of the bag absently, hoping that Roy would reach his goal without her, and that he would reach it soon. Maybe then she could return and apologize. Maybe then he wouldn't hate her for what she'd done.

She allowed herself to be naïve, for now, anyway. It was her firm resolve as Riza Hawkeye that compelled her to act the way she was, to shatter her dream for his own. But as the train sped away from Central, Riza Hawkeye faded.


	3. A Close Encounter

_((Hi, guys! Again, thank you for the wonderful reviews! I'm sorry it took so long. I aggravated a shoulder injury I had at the beginning of the year. It's hard to type with a sling. T-T))_

Riza had thought she had passed the largest obstacles of her journey. She had successfully avoided her former colleagues and her former commanding officer. The former lieutenant had fled to Aquroya, a city populous enough for her to slip in unnoticed. Tourists were coming there all the time, and it was quite common that, though the city was slowly sinking, people would fall in love with the place and move there, enjoying the city as much as they could. It was also close enough to Central to get a steady flow of information on the ever popular Flame Alchemist and how he was continuing to rise through the ranks. In addition to these reasons, she was reasonably certain she knew no one stationed there.

Maes was gone. Roy simply didn't have the strong connections he used to in the Investigations Department. It would be particularly challenging to dig up any of the remaining information on her, especially because she had resigned and any inquiry as to her civilian affairs was now illegal without a warrant.

She hadn't expected to see any of them, though. A few weeks after she rented out an apartment under her new name, Hawkeye had seen Havoc and Breda in a diner. The waitress had seated her in a booth in the corner that day. It had been in what could be called the early lunch hours, and to prepare for the traffic that was sure to come, the waitress had been seating customers in the booths as they came, not in accordance to party number. Riza didn't recognize them at first. Roy must have given them orders to cover their faces. Did he suspect her? Or was it just another necessary precaution to tread lightly in front of the higher-ups?

The retired sniper remembered their conversation well. A tall, well built man sat down first, griping about the lack of a smoking section. An amiable voice she recognized as that of the portly second lieutenant answered him, laughing, that he was only irked that the waitress hadn't flirted with him. Havoc grumbled that a certain "egotistical pyromaniac" (having not thrown in the towel yet, he was taking advice from Falman-for the first and last time- and incorporating lots of big words to make him seem intellectual to the waitress) had stolen so many dates from him that the smoker's skills must've atrophied. Breda had conversed more cheerfully, and Hawkeye gleaned from his words that they were all on leave, hunting her down. Roy and Armstrong had gone East, Fuery and Falman had gone North, and even the Elrics, already in the South exploring Ishbalan medicine in relation to alchemy, were helping out. She had also learned, interestingly enough, that Havoc could no longer blame his romantic incompetence on the Colonel, for Roy seemed to have given up all romantic pursuits, and had dropped his flirtatious façade. At this final tidbit, Hawkeye could feel her stomach doing flips, and it wasn't because of the baby.

Riza had lifted her menu up from her table and covered her face when she recognized them, praying to whatever God there was that they didn't recognize her. The waitress, after seating them, approached the woman to ask for her order. Hawkeye raised her voice's pitch a little bit, trying to disguise as much as possible. The waitress raised a brow questioningly. Hawkeye was aware that Havoc had been staring intently at the waitress. She could feel his eyes on the plastic cover of her menu.

"It's just the baby. It's a bit jumpy today," Riza told the waitress, using her appearance to draw up an escape plan. She looked different than she had when she left Central. Her hair was cut short, as it had been when she had first enlisted, and she wore a blue sundress that, though it didn't hide her present condition, didn't make her look as if she were a whale walking the streets.

"I think I'll come back later, in the afternoon," she said, the waitress nodding and smiling in response. Hawkeye could have sighed in relief. Havoc and Breda, in the next booth, would have undoubtedly heard her talk of the baby. Havoc had dropped his eyes, and Breda seemed intensely absorbed in the study of his menu. She knew they weren't stupid. If they had been hunting her down, any woman in Aquroya would be suspicious. They would never expect any pregnant woman to be their stern and strong Hawkeye.

She had figured that their leave was brief, and that Mustang should have to drop his inquiries soon to keep making progress with his goal. Her conjecture proved correct. That was the last time in months she ever saw any of them. She wondered occasionally whether or not they had dropped the search altogether, but she doubted they had. It was Roy she was thinking about. Roy Mustang was the most ambitious man she had ever met, and he had loved her. That's what made it so pleasant to stare into those posters that lined the colorful streets. Those posters often had frivolous, flamboyant print advertising military life beneath the portraits of famous heroes of Ishbal. The Colonel, of course, was the most popular. It was funny, really. The posters had been few at first because they would mysteriously disappear from public places, undoubtedly hawked by some giddy school girls or ditzy women, flattering themselves in their childlike infatuations.

That's what made it so painful. Looking into those twin orbs of dark ink, she realized how she had stolen him away as well. But her piece of him didn't bleed ink. No, it bled tears.

_((Don't worry, folks. The next chapter, I assure you, won't have such a crappy ending. It will have actual action in it, too. ))_


	4. The Man in the Hall

_((Hi, guys! Sorry it took me so long to update! I'll try as hard as I can to update more frequently. Enjoy!)) _

Shock had brought it on. Riza could've cried as she knelt on the filthy, uneven cobbled ground of the alley, clutching her womb. The gun she had fired shot from slipped from her hand, hitting the sordid stones and sliding off into the rubbish, its contents gone. She had used the rounds to punch a silhouette of a mugger who had just tried to assail her into a wall.

She hadn't even meant to. It had been instinct. The poor sap had thought the immensely pregnant woman easy prey. She was, in a sense. She had been concentrating on ridding herself of the nausea that resulted from merely walking across the street to defend herself from the grubby hand that reached out and drew her in to the shadowy alley. The former lieutenant hadn't harmed him of course…physically anyway. Being shot at did have lasting traumatic effects, whether or not the bullets hit their mark. They did, of course, in this case. But the mark wasn't him. It was around him, as she did in the old days.

It had been months since the incident in the diner. But the baby wasn't due yet. It still had a few more weeks to go. Not that it mattered to the baby. She groaned and gasped, pulling herself onto the sidewalk. Though she had changed her name, Hawkeye's resolve had never left her. Bystanders had been alerted by the gunshots, and were beginning to gawk and gape. An ambulance was called of course, but Riza didn't see. She couldn't see anything beyond her eyelids, closed to help her endure the incredible pain.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but you cannot go in there," a nurse told him.

"I need to! She's the only witness we've got!" Roy Mustang replied, aggravated. "The woman's a key witness in a missing person case, dammit! Let me see her!"

"She's in labor, sir. Only the father or a party specified by Ms. Grumman are allowed into her room," the nurse told the officer, any mercy worn away by years of disinfectant.

"Wait-she's in labor?! Arrgh! I've only got a few more hours here!" He responded, a fist encased in an ivory glove falling upon the reception desk in the maternity ward of Aquroya's hospital. Due to Hawkeye's official resignation almost a year before, he hadn't been able to maintain a search warrant. It was only luck that Falman maintained some of his contacts in the investigations department, contacts he had made when he worked under Hughes. He had learned through Falman that there was a gun found in an alley that had been registered under a Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, and that the firearm was involved in a shooting in Aquroya. There weren't any fingerprints, but the 'crime scene' was proof enough. Only she would've shot that silhouette in a wall. The Aquroyan police had been baffled. There was a weapon fired, numerous times, but the only two left on the scene when forces arrived was the supposed assailant, a middle aged man armed with a knife, and a witness- a pregnant woman who, at the scene, only commented in sharp gasps: "he attacked, he attacked" and "I'm so sorry." It was a curious conundrum indeed. The man, the original assailant, was unarmed and unharmed, but had lost consciousness at the scene from sheer terror.

Roy Mustang had been almost certain he would find Riza again. But he only had a few hours. He hadn't a warrant and therefore no official excuse to linger in the city.

A doctor and another nurse attending the patient could hear the yells in the hallway. Both were fully aware of the horrors this woman experienced, though their perspectives, like every other person following the case, were slightly skewed. All thought Ms. Lisa Grumman was merely a witness.

The Ms. Lisa Grumman in question lay on the cold, uncomfortable cot. Her breaths were shallow and her face dripping in sweat. Her mouth was open, trying to swallow as much air as she could. But she did not scream.

The nurse and the doctor were impressed. They thought her perhaps the bravest patient they had ever seen.

But she wasn't as brave as she wanted to be. She did not scream because she didn't want to be heard by the man in the hall. Beyond pain assailing her senses, she could hear his voice echoing from the corridor outside. She could hear the nurse at the desk constantly, calmly responding that at this point only the father of the baby could enter the room, and that Mustang would at least have to ask the father for permission to enter the room.

Riza Hawkeye, no, Lisa Grumman, began to wonder if it was possible that irony could hurt more than labor.


	5. Return on a Rainy Day

((_ Thank you, reviewers, for bringing up a few points I would have surely missed. There's no denying there will probably be some typos or grammar mistakes in here. My computer's killing off my files and refusing to save over documents. It hates me. I'll try to get the next chapter up more quickly, though, and I will be sure to fix as many flaws as possible. Please keep up the reviews! They help, they truly do!))_

Shortly after Maes had died, Gracia had started the small flower shop by herself, about three blocks away from Central headquarters. The original flower woman, Grace, had gotten married to a petty officer and went with the fellow when he was stationed in the East. Beyond that, there were only a few changes that occurred in Riza's absence.

It had been raining that day. It was a Tuesday in the last week of November, and the flower shop's cheerful looking awning was little help against the wet, moody winds. The duo that had scurried under the awning in an effort to evade the rain pounding on the sidewalk interested her. The pair consisted of a woman and her son. From the get-go, they seemed a peculiar pair, but as she approached the glass door to offer them the dry and cozy inside of her shop, their antics only peaked her curiosity. The woman had originally carried her son under the awning. Gracia had seen her from across the street, scooping him up and running to seek what meager sanctuary the street shops could offer. In her valiant dash to screen her son from the cold, relentless downpour, the bun beneath her hat had come loose and the flaxen tresses that had fallen upon her gently sloping shoulders were in mere moments drenched to the point that they stuck to her clammy skin.

She set her son down on the somewhat dry pavement beneath the awning, speaking to him.

" I'm so sorry, mommy forgot to bring an umbrella. And you were late to school as it is…" she was speaking gently to the child, whose face was turned away from the shop window. It didn't help that Gracia could only see their backs. The woman stuck a hand into one of the deep pockets of her coat, drawing out a familiar clip.

"Tch, it's going to rust, with my hair soaked like this. Maes, when this rain lets up, we'll go home and change first. Or I can buy you a towel or something. I don't know…"

"There's a souvenir store next to the ice cream parlor, mom," Maes suggested somewhat helpfully, hope shining through his voice.

"It's too cold for ice cream," the mother replied, then with a start looked at the child, "Did you remember to feed Hayate this morning?"

The child didn't get a chance to respond. Gracia, who was at this point running to the door, flung it open and with an exclamation interrupted their conversation.

"Riza?!" She was finally allowed a chance to see as the woman turned, shock breaking across her familiar, reserved features, and surprise gleaming in that pair of amber eyes.

Gracia's shock was greater as her gaze fell upon the boy. The rain had matted his thick black hair and, like his mother's, it stuck to his pale face. It did not impede, however, on the two clear, intelligent, amber eyes that gazed at the flower tender quizzically.

Riza looked somewhat nervous. Not scared, Riza Hawkeye had never seemed to be scared, not even six years ago, but nervous.

"Gracia?" she inquired, taking up the hand of her child in her own.

Mrs. Hughes smiled, though words left her. Finally, she managed to string together a few sentences. "It's been a while. Come in, before both of you catch cold."

Hours later, the two women sat with mugs of tea, watching Maes juggle orchid bulbs to amuse himself. The rain hadn't let up, and Gracia was insistent that they stay put, if not to enlighten her as to what the former lieutenant had been doing the past six years, then to keep them out of the rain.

"He's never even had a date since I left?" Riza asked, incredulous.

"Yeah. It's rather sad, really. Everyday for the past four years, he'd stop by and ask if there was any news of you. From what I've heard, it seems he'd asked Ross that too."

"Lt. Ross?" Riza responded.

"No, she retired about a year ago. She married Denny," came Gracia's answer.

Riza smiled. She should have known.

"But he stopped asking about me after a while?"

"Yes. I still think he tried to find you these past couple years, but the generals began to suspect something."

"I had hoped my leaving from the start was clear-cut enough to annihilate suspicion."

"I gathered that. Everyone else did, too. Well, we all did, but Roy questioned it. You did a remarkable job at covering your tracks, though," Gracia remarked, some vague traces of bitterness in that final statement.

"I'm so sorry, Gracia. I thought that if I stayed, and word got out, his reputation would be shot down in an instant." Riza said sincerely.

"I know. I forgive you. At first, I admit, I was a little hurt. Everyone was smarting from your resignation. But I understand why. I take it he's six?"

"Yes. Elysia's ten, now, isn't she?" inquired Riza politely.

Gracia nodded in assent. "She looks more like her father every day."

Maes dropped one of the orchid bulbs into a vase at the top of a shelf lined with very colorful lilies. Gracia stood to retrieve it for him. She looked back at Hawkeye, who was staring intently into the rich brown liquid in her cup. She looked close to tears.

"Roy's promotion brought you back, didn't it?"

"Yes," Riza answered. A quiet laugh followed. "News of Führer Mustang's rise to power was brought to Aquroya last week. I had to come here to see for myself."

"Aquroya? So that's where you were. That's interesting. That's where they spent the most time looking for you. It was you that shot the bullets into the wall then, all those years ago?"

"Mmhmm. I hadn't meant to. The guy attacked me out of nowhere trying to steal my purse."

"Yes, Roy was convinced you had been hurt after that. He chased that case like a rabid dog. It was Havoc who shook him out of it. He had been promoted to First Lieutenant to fill in for you. But they all still work directly under him, now that he's Führer. Are you going to see Roy any time soon, Riza? Now that he's at the top, you're free to tell him."

Riza looked out the window. The rain was falling, lighter and lighter. It was almost a drizzle now.

"I hope to," she answered solemnly, "but I think it's rather naïve of me to ask him to take me back."


	6. A Sight in the Snow

_((Greetings! Here's the sixth and second-to-last chapter of "Broken Bliss". I was rather distracted while composing this, so there may be a few errors. Beyond that, I hope you enjoy it and please review.))_

It had been two weeks. Riza, still registered as Liza, had moved into her old apartment. She figured that after six years, even someone as stubborn as the Colonel would have dropped his investigations there.

But he wasn't the Colonel, she reminded herself for the thousandth time as she cooked dinner for Maes. He was the Furher now.

Maes was, as had been established as a usual routine, playing with Elysia in the snow outside Gracia's flower shop. It was December now, and the two were bundled up almost beyond recognition as they traced whimsical pictures in the frost that had gathered on the front window. Dusk was falling, and most were at home with their families. The streets were deserted in the district, and the snow that had piled about seemed to muffle the sounds of the city farther away. Gracia watched the two through the window as she arranged poinsettias.

A cheerful little bell sounded as the door opened. A customer had come from the opposite side of the street. "Elysia has a new boyfriend, I see," came the familiar voice of the new Furher. Gracia almost dropped one of the flamboyantly colored plants, startled not because of his sudden appearance but because of his appearance at such a time. She smiled at him warmly, though.

"That sounds like something Maes would worry about," the woman said, looking back at the duo. Little Maes was covered in a hood, and despite the scarf that hid his pale face from the chill, she could see a pillar of steam slip from the slits in the fabric as he laughed with her daughter. The little boy was tracing a sailboat on the window with a gloved finger.

"He's only six, though. There's nothing to worry about. I'm going to have to close up soon and take him to his mother. She works here now, by the way." Gracia spoke.

Roy hadn't learned of Riza's return yet. No one had, really, but Gracia herself. His mind discarded the information. He had stopped dating women when Hawkeye left.

"Oh. Is she a friend of yours?" He was just making conversation.

"Yes, she's a friend of yours," Gracia almost dropped the pot again. Poor plants.

"Oh! I mean, a friend of mine, yes. She is," Gracia thought it best Riza should be the one to meet Roy. She didn't want to rudely shove them back together again when Riza wasn't quite adjusted yet. She put the poinsettia down and raised a hand to her flustered face. "I'm sorry, Roy. I'm really rather tired."

"No, I'm sorry for intruding. I was just dropping by," the man responded, looking rather concerned.

"Can you keep an eye on those two for a minute while I lock up the back?" She asked, hesitantly. Roy wasn't an idiot, she knew, but if he hadn't caught on to Maes yet, she wasn't sure he was going to. The boy was wrapped in almost five layers of clothing, after all.

On his own, Maes looked at the clock in the window of the neighboring antique store window. "Byeee, Elysia!" the kid started walking slowly off down the street himself. With the confidence of the innocent, he began the journey home himself. Roy figured Gracia would just be out in a minute, but moved to stand just outside the door.

"Hey, kid! Wait!" he called after the little boy, who had just past an alley but hadn't crossed the street yet.

Maes complied, turning. Roy couldn't fully discern the kid's facial features; the sun's dying rays off the pearly snow around him was too bright. But he did see the kid's gloved hands give little tremors of surprise. Roy was going to call out to him again, walking just out to the border of the shop window. The man now stood next to Elysia. He still couldn't see the kid's face, though. It was turned in to face the alley. He was talking to somebody. Roy strained his ears to hear, registering at the same time that Gracia was locking up the shop door behind him.

"Hi," he heard the little boy talk into the shadows.

"Yes, I am," a husky, dazed voice replied. "Would you like some?"

Dear God, Roy thought. Gracia had seemed tired enough.

The Furher commenced a hardly dignified sprint. "Gracia!" he cried out behind him, "I think I'll walk this kid home myself."

Gracia blankly stared after him, unsure of what to do. "Okay," she called, "he lives on Burke Street, in the apartments there. He knows which one. Thank you, Roy."

Having successfully saved the child from the rather shady character, Roy fell into an easy pace. The little boy stayed by his side. Roy was curious as to the child's reaction earlier. His fists had shaken before he seemed to notice the bum. But that meant the child had practically shaken them at him, and he couldn't think of any reason why. He opened his mouth, but the kid, to his great surprise, spoke first.

"You know, as Furher, you might've tried to pass off some sort of valuable life lesson, like 'say no to drugs' or something…"

Roy was startled. How old was this kid? Gracia had said six, but he couldn't remember if he had known what drugs were at this age. And the kid's speech, it was even and confident. That made him more of a speaker than some of the officials in the army. The kid might've even followed politics, judging by his knowledge of Roy's position.

"You're very smart," the Furher commented dryly. He was rather amused by this child. "What's your name?"

"Maes."

Mustang could've tripped over his own foot. "Really?" he responded, not as incredulously as he felt but just to keep the kid talking. He was rather suspicious of this kid now. He wasn't sure what it was about the kid, but he knew there was a certain something.

"No, I lied." What was that? _Sarcasm?! _Who were this kid's parents? "My real name is Roy."

"Where'd you get that name from?" Roy asked. They were three blocks away from Burke Street. That was where Riza had lived, he noticed absently, far too caught up with this kid. 'Maes' reminded him of her, in a way. The child was rather blunt, and didn't chatter like other kids his age.

"I dunno. My mom says it a lot to Auntie Gracia. They talk about him when they think me and Elysia aren't listening." There was silence between them for a minute. Roy was contemplating whether or not he should make a mad dash away. He had never denied his former promiscuity with the female population of Central. Now that he was Furher, there were even more women crazed about him, not that he gave any of them so much as a passing glance any more. Well, he was civil, of course. He needed the public's support. But beyond that, he was rather cold and aloof nowadays. Since she had left…

But if this kid's mom talked of him, he was placing himself in danger, and possibly jeopardizing this kid's parents' marriage. Crap.

"What about your father? Is he in the military?" The real question were 'does he have a firearms license? Is his aim good?' but he didn't ask.

"I think so," said Maes. "He doesn't know about me though. Mommy loves him too much…"

Roy was puzzled by this response. But they were climbing the stairs in the apartment building now. It was too late to escape. If he tried, he'd make such a clamor in the stairwell that he'd probably be captured. Captured…Ok, maybe he was over-thinking this a little bit. Walking a child home to his mother should never be viewed as a sort of campaign. On the other hand, if he slowed down and thought through what the boy had told him…'Maes' under Gracia's care was too much a coincidence. He held firm to that hope, and at the same time tried to crush it. The Furher was afraid that if he held to that hope too tightly, if he tried to embrace it and force it to become his reality, well, that's why asylums are around when life hands you one of its unlimited disappointments.


	7. The Beauty of Something Broken

_((This is the final chapter, published separately but simultaneously with the sixth to be fair, because I promised Demon of Water I'd post the last chapter by the end of the week and she's…very persuasive, I should say. God bless you, Demon of Water.))_

He couldn't help but hope. Furher Mustang was human, after all. He was hesitant at first. His heart and nearly fallen to pieces when he was denied a warrant to question that woman in Aquroya all those years ago. He wasn't sure if he could take the same pain again if his hopes were false. An idea occurred to him, an insurance of this last hope. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it before. He had been too occupied with the thought of the kid alone.

"Wait, kid!" They were rounding the platform between the first and second flights of stairs now. His voice resonated about them. He wasn't sure if it was this or his eagerness that made it so loud. "What's your last name?"

He had tugged on the scarf as the kid ran past, almost as eager as the man was to reach the apartment, which he knew to be three flights up. Unknown to Roy, this "mystery mom" lived in the _same_ apartment Hawkeye had six years ago. The landlord had known the woman to have been respectful of her neighbors and serious in maintenance of the residence, it had been fairly easy to return to it. But the boy was rushing past, and wouldn't stop immediately. It wasn't as if Roy's action would have strangled the child, though. The careful mother had meticulously draped the scarf about the boy's shoulders, and only loosely about the lower part of his face. That hood had hidden his forehead and, inadvertently, his intelligent eyes, from the cold. It had also hidden them from the eyes of others. Otherwise, Roy might have learned long before. The hood didn't cover the eyes, per se, but in the dying light outside-and even more so in this blank, fluorescent light that fell down on them from above- it just cast a shadow over them. Together with the scarf, the apparel left only the nose and the upper regions of his cheeks divulged. But when Roy removed the scarf, the hood fell back, revealing to a shocked Furher a cloud of tousled black hair. The boy turned, confused, but clarifying to Roy exactly what he was facing.

Two orbs of amber stared into his own black ones. "Grumman. Why? Are you going to charge my mom or-"

"Come on, kid!" Roy took him by the arm, beginning to almost leap up the stairs with the same alacrity the child had moments before. He had that gentle, blunt stare as the greatest proof of what he thought. The name was only further confirmation, further opportunity to hope.

Riza cringed in the kitchen as she heard the door to the living room flung open in an explosion of sound and energy she had characterized as that belonging to Maes.

"Maes! If you keep hurling the door open like that you're going to break-"

"It wasn't me, Mommy!" Maes cut in, his voice slightly muffled by the coat he was trying to escape from as he simultaneously shirked his boots off his feet. "It was-"

It was Mae's turn for an interruption. Riza stood in the doorway, eyes wide in shock as they took in the sight of the man who spoke next.

"Me." Roy's eyes would have widened, but he was far too confused. He was happy, excruciatingly happy that his hope had become reality. But he was hurt, too. He didn't understand.

Roy had thought that she had needed rescue, that she hadn't left him but had been whisked away by some villain, that her resignation was a forgery or that it was signed under duress. But the years had gone by, and Hawkeye seemed fine. He noted her shoulders sloped more gently than they did those years ago, probably from her resignation from the military, and her more recent job as a mom. And what hurt most, was that after six years, the first word she spoke to him wasn't a relieved greeting, a warm welcome, or even a loving embrace.

"Gracia," she breathed, "she told you didn't she?"

"No." he answered. How silly, how strange it was, he thought, that he was facing the woman he had ever really loved for the first time in several years, and talking to her was like exchanging pleasantries with a stranger off the street. "I offered to walk 'Maes' home after I rescued him from a drug junkie."

Hawkeye looked at Maes with great concern, he took this as a cue to run into the kitchen. He didn't know what was happening between his mommy and this strange man he heard on the radio or saw on posters, but he relied on instinct, much like his mother did. His instincts told him to run as fast as his little feet could carry him.

"He's our son, isn't he, Riza?" Roy spoke, watching the little black-haired head slink behind a counter in the kitchen and out of view. "Is that why you left me?"

She seemed physically wounded by these words. Those familiar, eyes, that rather calm fiery color, washed over his face. But the years had shaped it into a cold façade, and he was not as easily read as he had been in the past. She hadn't moved from the doorway to the kitchen, besides shifting to the side a little bit to allow Maes to flee. The man watched as his former subordinate fell to her knees.

"Yes, Roy. Yes." The last thing he had wanted to see from her, after all these years, was her tears. He had a small, small expectancy of them from the beginning of his hope. But he had fancied those tears as the products of a joyful reunion. He hadn't wanted to see her miserable, crumpled on the floor as he perhaps added to the burden on her shoulders, the burden she had been harboring for six years. But he knew she wasn't the only one tormented by her departure. And he knew she knew that as well.

"I'm so sorry." Her voice came in short breaths and mangled sobs. "I knew that if I stayed, you'd never reach the top. I know I broke my promise, I know."

He fell to his knees beside her, gently placing an arm about her shoulder. It still felt good to do that, he noted. He could feel her shaking in his arms, so close to falling apart. She knew his burdens were great. She kept speaking, trying to communicate through the flood of cold tears spilling from those large reddish brown eyes. "I'm so sorry. All this time, I-"

He pulled her closer. She was still the same, stubborn Riza who had left. Her heart was softer, though, and more scarred.

"All this time, I missed you. I didn't understand why you left. I'm sorry, Riza. I'm sorry I did this to you." He was sincere, of course, and happy she was not hurt. Had he been less shocked at this scene in general, he would have been flustered-irritated perhaps- that this entire episode had resulted from an attempt to protect him. But he understood, finally.

"You did nothing wrong." Her breaths were less shallow now, the tears less frequent, but they still came, and as he felt her clammy cheek against his neck, he feared that she might drown in them.

"Neither did you. You did what you thought would work. It's alright, Riza. It's going to be alright." Now this, too, was not as he pictured it. The headstrong, stubborn, invincible Riza, consoled by tiny words of comfort, was startling in itself.

"No, it's not. It broke you, didn't it? I hurt you. It was me who-"

Tears were coming down his cheeks, too. He turned his head and kissed her lightly. Not out of lust, of course. After the shock, he wasn't sure if his heart could hold anything. But looking at this woman, realizing her heart was just as battered and still beating, like his own, it held nothing but love. And though it was filled to the greatest capacity ever imaginable, it was feeling lighter by the moment.

The kiss did not linger. She was too breathless from crying for that. Nor did it have any real force behind it. His passion seemed washed away from their tears. But it was enough to quell that river of words soaked with sorrow.

"The beauty of something broken is that it can be fixed." He said gently.

Central was buzzing merely weeks later with the news of the Furher's marriage, and his wife's role as his newly appointed secretary. A charming boy, who later turned out to be a darling among the Amestrian media, was also added to the family, a product of the First Lady's previous marriage. Roy had invented this himself. He was the product of the wife's marriage to her work, of course, which resulted in her disappearance. Of course, he could also claim that her first marriage had been to a rather arrogant Colonel about half a dozen or so years ago, and that the marriage had taken place outside the country and therefore there were no legal records of the ceremony extant.  
He had always been married to her, when he thought of it. Not officially, the Furher supposed. But his soul had been salvaged and repaired by her, it had been hers since the moment she touched it. And in the same way with his heart. They both had belonged to her, as she had to him. The two were quite happy. The rest of the company was, too. Fuery, Falman, and Breda had remained pretty much the same as they had been previous to Hawkeye's departure. Havoc had been with a steady girlfriend the past year or so. They all were confused when the Furher announced his engagement to a Ms. Liza Grumman, but they were more than happy when the past six years were explained to them. Hayate, though getting on in years, became a regular sight in the Furher's office, to Fuery's delight.  
As for Maes, Roy and Riza had him home schooled with teachers from all over the country. Elysia became his best friend and- to no one's real surprise- he took up an immense interest in photography.

_(( That's all, folks! The promise Riza's referring to is the promise to stay by him and follow him to hell and back. I hope this lived up to expectations. I was rather distracted when I wrote this, but I promised I'd finish it by the weekend. Thank you all, reviewers, for providing both motivation and feedback on this. This was my first multiple-chaptered fanfic, and I hope the ones I produce in the future will be of better quality. Thanks again! Any reviews are certainly helpful!))_


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